


Mischief Managed

by Secretjeanmarco



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: HP AU, Harry Potter AU, M/M, hydrangeapartridge, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8952931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretjeanmarco/pseuds/Secretjeanmarco
Summary: Snippets of Jean and Marco's experiences at Hogwarts, starting with their very first day there, and spanning all the way to their last week at school.- -Jean was the kid everyone expected to get sorted into Slytherin, and Marco was the boy who wanted nothing more than to be sorted into Ravenclaw.  But things are seldom as they seem, and life rarely goes according to plan...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HydrangeaPartridge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydrangeaPartridge/gifts).



> This was my gift for HydrangeaPartridge for the 2016 JeanMarco Gift Exchange. Their request was: "Jean and Marco's days in Hogwarts or working at the ministry of magic for example. For the houses, whatever you see fit." 
> 
> I was apprehensive at first about writing a Harry Potter au (because I'm sure it's been done before, and by people more skilled than I, no doubt!), but once I got started, I found that the story really took on a life of its own. I tried to stay true to canon characterization, and mirrored a lot of events from canon in the story here (including some dialogue directly from the show!) My boyfriend also helped out, suggesting some plot points that made it into the story, and he had fun too. So thank you to the organizers of the 2016 JMGE for yet another year of Secret Santa fun! I hope you guys enjoy the story <3

The day had finally come when Marco would depart for Hogwarts to attend the esteemed school where generations of his family had studied witchcraft and wizardry. He could hardly contain his excitement! After a kiss on the cheek from his mother and a pat on the back from his father, he was whisked away on the Hogwarts Express with words of encouragement from his parents fresh in his memory. He took in the train ambiance as he walked through the narrow hallway, passing a few closed off compartments from which giggles and animated chatter could be overheard. He couldn't keep the smile from his face, nearly bouncing with each step he made towards the last open compartment at the end of the train car. He rounded the corner into the compartment and bumped right into the occupant, who was attempting to stow his luggage overhead when Marco entered. The other boy's bag and its contents spilled across the floor of the small room, and he whirled on Marco with an exasperated huff.

"Watch it!" He chastised Marco angrily.

"Oh - I'm sorry!" Marco replied nervously, backing out of the compartment and out of the way of the other boy, who had knelt down to gather his belongings and was shoving them into his bag haphazardly. "Here, let me help," Marco said more steadily as he too stooped down to help gather a number of blank pages and quills that had over spilled into the hallway. Marco handed them to the other boy, who hesitated as he met Marco's eyes, then took them and slid them into his bag more gently than he had been handling his other belongings. Marco gulped, and attempted to salvage the situation. "My name is Marco...I didn't mean to make you spill your stuff. Let me make it up to you." He offered with a small smile at his peer, who turned without responding, buckled his bag once again and hoisted it over his head. After successfully stowing his bag, the other boy grunted and shrugged his shoulders as he turned towards Marco with a hand held out.

"You don't have to make it up to me. I'm Jean Kirschtein," he said gruffly, yet lacking the animosity he had displayed earlier. Marco shook his hand politely and beamed at Jean, then they both took a seat across from each other. 'My first acquaintance at school! I should learn more about him,' Marco thought as Jean stared out the window indifferently, apparently lost in thought. Nonetheless, Marco had a feeling he wouldn't mind the interruption, and decided on a good question to break the silence.

"Hey Jean," Marco blurted out, and Jean jumped slightly. He was unaccustomed to people his age actually wanting to make conversation with him, and was not expecting more words to be exchanged between them. With eyebrows raised, he hummed at Marco to continue. 

"What house do you think you'll be sorted into?" Marco leaned forward in anticipation, his smile seemingly ever-present to Jean. Jean mulled over the question in his head, pursing his lips and tilting his head up in contemplation.

"Hmmm...I haven't really thought about it, to be honest." Jean crossed his arms and shrugged. "I guess whichever house will get me furthest in life. Whichever house produces people that lead comfortable lives. Whichever one that is, I want to get sorted there." Jean nodded, pleased with the result of his introspection. 

Marco's smile made way for a more thoughtful expression as he considered Jeans's response. "That would probably be Slytherin, then..." Marco mumbled, remembering what he had read about the houses and their founders in his History of Hogwarts book. It was Marco's opinion that even though school hadn't started, it was never to early to get a head start on his education! Slytherin house and its students were often misunderstood to be harsh, mean-spirited, and selfish. In reality, Slytherins tended to be some of the most resourceful and determined individuals. Marco understood that students in Slytherin house were the kind that would go to any lengths to see their goals accomplished. As a result, Slytherin alumni tended to be the type of wizards and witches that were most successful in business ventures, and thus, were likely to lead a comfortable lifestyle. 

A shrill bark of laughter from the doorway of their compartment interrupted Marco's train of thought. "HA! Slytherin, that's PERFECT for Jean!" Marco and Jean turned towards the source of the noise, Marco with a quiet gasp of surprise, and Jean with a whining, drawn out groan. 

"Nope, no, no, no!" Jean mumbled quickly as he stood up and began making shooing motions with his arms at the intruder. "Keep moving, Springer, this compartment is full!" 

"Full, my butt!" the young boy Jean had called Springer retorted. "These are made for four people, so scooch over. Sasha and I are gonna sit here!" He pushed past Jean and flopped unceremoniously onto the cushioned bench where Jean had been sitting. A young girl with droopy eyes and a ponytail followed him in, muttering a sweet, "Hello, Jean!" with a mouth full of food as she passed him to sit next to her companion. Jean sighed in defeat, sliding the compartment door closed and joining Marco on his bench.

"So, who's your buddy?" the loudmouth asked Jean with a grin, his eyes widening slightly as he accepted the cracker offered to him by the girl beside him. She had pulled out an entire sleeve of the crackers and was happily munching on them. Where she had been hiding them and how she had opened them so quickly yet surreptitiously, Marco could not even begin to guess. She caught Marco staring, and gave him a warm smile, completely disregarding the crumbs around her lips. Marco returned the smile as Jean introduced them.

"Guys, this is Marco..." Jean trailed off, looking expectantly to Marco.

"Bodt." Marco supplied. Jean's lip quirked up at the corner in what Marco thought might have been a small smile, but it was gone before he could be sure. Sasha gasped dramatically. "You mean like Bertie Bott's every flavored beans?! Are you Bertie's son!?" She inquired shrilly.

"No relation, I'm afraid." Marco corrected with a chuckle, and Sasha deflated a bit.

"Marco, this is Connie Springer," he gestured to the loudmouth young man with the buzz cut who nodded at Marco, "and Sasha Braus." Jean sighed again as Sasha, with her mouth full, said to Marco, "Nife to meefyou" and Marco replied "Yes, nice to meet you too." with more sincerity than Jean believed to be genuine. "We were neighbors growing up," Jean explained briefly to Marco. 

"As I was saying!" Connie continued, his hand on his chest and his chin up as though he had been rudely interrupted by Jean and Marco instead of the other way around. "Slytherin is exactly where I'd expect Jean to get sorted. Been saying that for years," Connie smirked confidently. "Nice to know I'm not the only one who recognizes you for the snake you are!" Connie laughed brashly, and Jean frowned next to Marco.

"Yeah well, what house do you think you're getting sorted into, baldy?" Jean replied grumpily. 

"Moi?" Connie paused, looked over at Sasha who nodded, and then he said with fake haughtiness, "Why, I'm going to be sorted into Gryffindor of course. Only the bravest, most noble people get sorted into Gryffindor." Sasha giggled a little at his proclamation, and Connie smiled at her, shushing her jokingly. "Sh-shh I said it's Gryffindor! Stop laughing, Sasha!" he smacked her lightly on the arm, and she gulped her mouthful down as she tried to keep from laughing . Marco noticed her stow the crackers away in a pocket of her robe that must be enchanted to hold more than what it looks like it should. Sasha winked at him as she patted her pocket knowingly, and Marco smiled at her ingenuity. 

Connie cleared his throat, continuing their sorting predictions. "So Jean is Slytherin, I'm Gryffindor. Sasha will be a Hufflepuff. They're good FINDERS apparently, and you'd better believe there is absolutely no way to hide food from her." Sasha nodded in agreement, adopting a serious face that was mimicked by Connie. The two of them continued to nod at each other with progressively more serious expressions until they both burst into fits of laughter.

Jean waved a hand at them dismissively, and turned towards Marco. "What about you, Marco? Where do you think you'll be sorted?" Marco had become so comfortable as a bystander in the conversation that he was surprised to be pulled back into it as a participant. After his initial shock, however, he answered rather quickly. He had given lots of thought to this growing up and could only ever come to one logical conclusion. "Ravenclaw, of course!" He blurted out, everyone in the compartment looking at him in surprise due to the volume and strong conviction of his statement. He blushed, looking down at his tie and fidgeted with it. "I mean, um, both my parents were Ravenclaws, and they're supposed to be the most academic and pensive students. So naturally, that's where I should be sorted." Marco explained more carefully, finally looking up to meet eyes with his peers. Sasha was nodding in agreement, Connie had his hand on his chin and was looking out the window quizzically, and Jean was looking right at him, smiling softly. This caught Marco off-guard, and he averted his gaze with a mild blush he hoped no one noticed. 

Connie grumbled a bit, then finally said, "Nnnh...I dunno man, you don't strike me as a Ravenclaw. You know what? You really feel like a Hufflepuff to me." Connie held his finger up as though he had made a breakthrough, and Marco tried his best not to look offended. He had always assumed he would get into Ravenclaw and make his parents proud. His whole life, he had prepared himself to be sorted into that house. It felt like a part of his identity in some way, an unspoken expectation that had hovered over him since birth. How would he explain to his parents if he didn't follow in their footsteps? They, who called him "their little eagle" affectionately when he was a child due to the crest of Ravenclaw. They, who had decorated his bedroom in blue and bronze. The thought of going home to them sporting the uniform of another house made him queasy with shame. Marco's discomfort, though obvious to Jean and maybe even Sasha, was not so obvious to Connie, who continued to explain.

"See, you seem like the kind of guy who always apologizes for things that aren't his fault, or who offers the last snack to everyone else before even thinking of taking it himself. I bet you like to make sure everyone is included in activities, and that everyone is treated fairly. Plus, Hufflepuffs are known for being super loyal, and you seem like the type to really stand up for your friends. That's totally a Hufflepuff! Trust me, my intuition is never wrong." Connie continued blabbering on, though Marco hardly heard any of it. He was lost in thought, trying to come to terms with the possibility of not being a Ravenclaw. 

Jean heard Sasha steer the conversation in another direction and was relieved at how easily distracted Connie was. Of course, she knew exactly what to say to get him off topic. She always knew how to handle Connie, and Jean never mentioned it to either of them. Connie seemed to like being handled by Sasha, and so Jean just let them be. 

He glanced over at Marco, who was staring unblinking at the carpet, a stern expression on his face. Jean wanted to say something to take his mind off of whatever was worrying him, but didn't want to say something insensitive, as was his wont. He was grateful when the food trolley came by to offer a distraction for all of them. After loading up on sweets and pastries, Marco's mood lightened a bit, and Jean relaxed as well. It was rare for him to find someone with whom he got along, and figured it would be good to have someone reliable around for a change instead of the two hopeless cases across from them. It was sure to make his school life easier. He found himself hoping that Marco would get sorted into Ravenclaw, and also that he would be able to join him there, even if it didn't sound like a good fit for him.

However, the sorting hat worked in mysterious ways, and despite Connie's claim at having good intuition, its choices were often hard to predict or understand. 

\- - -

Upon arrival, the first-year students were ushered towards the entrance to the great hall by their prefects, their round, young faces darting about, absorbing as much as their surroundings as possible while being herded towards a large doorway. There were a few first-year students that stuck out to Jean - a serious-looking young man accompanied by a blonde haired shy boy and a strikingly beautiful girl with jet black hair that made Jean's heart skip a beat or two. He also took note of a group of three kids that seemed to cluster together - a short, stone-faced girl, a strong looking blonde boy, and a lanky boy with a nervous jitter about him. They were whispering to each other, and when the stone-faced girl caught Jean watching them, she pointed him out to the two boys. The three of them stared him down with narrowing eyes, and he averted his gaze uncomfortably. 'Remind me to never get on their bad side!' Jean thought anxiously. 

Directly in front of him were Connie and Sasha, who were discussing intently the cards they'd gotten with their chocolate frogs they'd bought from the food trolley. He knew Marco was behind him, and could guess that he was wringing his hands nervously based on the fact that he'd been doing just that since the moment they'd stepped off the train. He looked over his shoulder and his suspicions were confirmed. Marco's knuckles were bone-white from how hard he was grasping at his sweater's hem. Jean decided that it would be better to risk saying something insensitive if it bore the slightest chance of easing Marco's stress. He was starting to kind of like this kid.

"Hey...you're gonna do great, no matter what. I'm sure the Sorting Hat will see that you're meant to be in Ravenclaw," Jean hoped his own uncertainty was not audible in his speech. Marco looked up from where he had been staring blankly at the ground to meet Jean's gaze, but only managed to let out a nervous, shaky exhale that morphed into a gurgling sort of noise. Jean snorted lightly with laughter, but patted Marco on the back sympathetically. Marco felt his worries lessen slightly, and offered a weak smile as thanks. Jean returned the smile before facing forward again as the line progressed. Marco couldn't get that smile out of his mind, but he felt much better than before, so he was okay with being oddly entranced by it.

Marco tried to control his breathing as the line to the Sorting Hat got shorter and shorter. It was Sasha's turn next, and the Sorting hat was barely on her head before it bellowed out, "HUFFLEPUFF." Sasha smiled and left the stage to join the Hufflepuffs at their table. Connie turned back to Jean and Marco with a knowing wink before walking onto the stage and having the hat placed onto his head. Marco's pulse quickened due to the accuracy of Connie's prediction, and he felt his stomach tumble nervously. The hat took a moment to deliberate before repeating itself. "HUFFLEPUFF!" the voice echoed across the hall, and Connie shrugged nonchalantly before taking his place next to Sasha at the Hufflepuff table, and Marco exhaled slightly, but still waited to hear where Jean would be sorted. Jean took his place on the stool, looking out onto the sea of faces and wondering where he would be placed. Then Jean heard the hat's voice as it deliberated above him, and knew that he alone was privy to this information.

"HMM Where to put you....Not Hufflepuff for sure. No no no....and not Ravenclaw either, for that matter." Jean's heart sank a bit as Marco's house of choice was eliminated. "Perhaps Slytherin?" the house pondered aloud, and Jean wanted nothing more than to prove Connie wrong. He concentrated on eliminating the option of Slytherin, hoping that the hat could sense his desires. "Very well..." The hat muttered, before booming out a resounding "GRYFFINDOR!" 

Jean's heart pounded in unexpected glee, and he smiled at Marco as he headed to the Gryffindor table, whispering to him as he passed "Connie only got one right, don't worry!" Marco threw an appreciative smile at Jean as he made his way on stage. As soon as the hat was placed on his head, he began to hear its considerations.

"Slytherin is out, Hufflepuff too..." Marco thought about making his parents proud, about waving that blue and bronze pennant at Quidditch games. But then something unexpected happened - he thought about Jean. He thought about the little smiles and the words of encouragement, and could feel himself yearning for the opportunity to become better friends with him. Before he knew it, the hat was announcing his house to the hall. "GRYFFINDOR," it stated confidently, and the hat was removed from his head before he had time to protest. He felt the bottom of his stomach drop, and his shoes felt like they were filled with lead as he sluggishly made his way towards the Gryffindor bench and took a seat next to Jean as the entire hall applauded. Or at least he thought it might be Jean...It was hard to tell through the tunnel vision and the hazy shock that clouded his senses. Vaguely, he felt Jean pat his back and murmur some reassurance or another into his ear. But all he could think about was how disappointed his parents were going to be when they found out. He wanted to hide away for a while, but knew that he would have to endure the opening feast before adjourning to their quarters. 

Beside him, Jean was wracking his brain trying to come up with some way to ameliorate Marco's woes. He was so sure that Marco would be sorted into Ravenclaw, and was ashamed at the realization of his own selfish joy that Marco was sorted into Gryffindor with him instead. It's true that he wanted to spend more time with his new friend, but not if it was at the expense of that friend's happiness! 'I've got to think of something that will make him feel better. He's as pale as a ghost!' Jean commanded himself to come up with something. Before he could cogitate further on the matter, the tables magically filled with food. He hadn't noticed that the sorting ceremony had finished up and that the Headmaster had announced the commencement of the opening feast. 

Jean dished some food onto his plate and took adventurous little bites of this and that. A few minutes passed before he noticed that Marco's plate was bare, and one look at his face revealed why. Jean was certain that if Marco took one bite, he would puke all over the table. He also surmised that Marco was entirely engaged in all sorts of horrifying fantasies, no doubt devoted to conjuring up all the worst case scenarios. Despite the pangs of hunger vying for his attention, Jean decided that it would be best to get Marco out of the buzzing hall full of happy people, and into a quiet environment where he could brood in peace. He flagged down the nearest prefect and explained the situation.

"Ugh, fine. You'll want to go up those stairs, and down the hall to the left. Then turn right down the fourth corridor and you'll find the portrait that guards the Gryffindor common room. The password is "Wall Rose." You'll find your luggage already in your rooms." Jean did his best to memorize the complicated directions as the prefect then turned back to their meal, not looking as though they'd show Jean the way even if he begged. 'We'll just have to wing it,' Jean conceded, then returned to where Marco was sitting still as a statue. 

"Hey," he said, placing a hand on Marco's shoulder. When Marco didn't respond, he shook him a little and leaned down to his level. "Hey, Marco." He said a bit louder. With a startle, Marco looked at Jean in the eye for the first time since being sorted. He looked haggard. "Do you want to get out of here?" Jean offered, and Marco nodded, his expression pleading, and stood up without a word. Jean turned away to walk down the hall and knew that Marco was following him. He noticed Connie staring at the two of them questioningly from across the hall, and he motioned towards Marco then mimed a vomiting gesture, hoping that he got his point across. Connie grimaced and nodded, turning back towards the feast that had Sasha's attention completely occupied. 

Halfway back to the common room, Jean stopped in his tracks, trying to remember the direction the prefect had told him to go. Was it the third corridor, or the fourth? Maybe the fifth... Jean grumbled and tried to recite the instructions again, and almost overlooked Marco as he shuffled by him and down one of the corridors. "Marco?" Jean called out to him warily, following him nonetheless.

"History of Hogwarts," Marco explained sullenly. "Shows the layout of the castle and how to reach the common rooms for each of the houses. This way," Marco pointed and ambled along weakly, and Jean could only follow. Though Jean had very little distrust for Marco's intellect, he was still surprised to soon find themselves before the portrait that guarded the Gryffindor common room. Marco stood before it silently until it clicked in Jean's mind that while Marco knew the route, there was no way he would know the password. Thankfully, Jean remembered that piece of information. 

"Wall Rose," Jean recited to the portrait, and it swung open to allow them entry. Jean followed Marco up the stairs to the first-year boy's dorm as indicated by the plaques on the walls. Once inside the room, Jean noticed his luggage at the foot of one of the beds. Marco stood at the foot of his own bed, staring off at the night sky through the window. Jean thought it would be best to leave and return to the dining hall, not wanting to intrude on Marco when he was sure the boy wanted nothing more than to be alone. 

He was about to say a quick parting word to Marco when he noticed Marco's shoulders were shaking. Then he heard something for which he was not prepared. A shuddering, wet sob. 'Oh no...oh no, no, no!' Jean panicked internally, and attempted to formulate a normal response to this. Should he pretend like he didn't hear Marco crying and just leave? Normally that would be a respectful choice, but it just felt absolutely wrong in this situation. Jean gulped and decided to try something he'd never done before - consolation. He stepped closer to Marco, who was crying into his hands quite ardently by this point. 

Jean gently laid a hand on Marco's back, at which Marco jolted slightly, but could not disrupt his misery long enough to acknowledge it. Jean pressed on, feeling entirely like a fish out of water.

"Hey...buddy. I know you're upset, and that's okay. But it won't be all that bad. " Jean started rubbing Marco's back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. This was all so new to him. "Gryffindors can be smart too. I know you'll do great here," Jean couldn't think of anything else to say, so he just stood there, awkwardly rubbing Marco's back as his breathing calmed down. 

"I was so close..." Marco muttered, his voice muffled by the hands still covering his face. He considered that maybe Jean was the reason for him being sorted into Gryffindor, and wondered briefly if he would have been sorted into Ravenclaw had they never met. He suddenly felt very resentful towards Jean, and also ashamed because he knew Jean didn't mean for this to happen. The guilt within him grew heavier. 

"You should go back to the great hall...I'll be okay." Marco stepped away from Jean and moved towards his bed. Jean let his hand slide off Marco's back, his arm falling limply to his side. He wasn't sure what to do. On one hand, he wanted to respect Marco's wishes, and he was hungry. The feast would be over soon, and he didn't want to sleep on an empty stomach. On the other hand, he had a feeling that if he left now, Marco would hide himself away and not be friends with him anymore. The thought of this happening made his chest twinge.

"Marco, if you really want me to go, I will. But I can tell you're not okay. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" Jean insisted.

"No!" Marco shouted, his voice reverberating harshly in the small stone room. Jean jumped at the intensity of Marco's response. "You can't make me a Ravenclaw, so you can't make it better!" Marco howled, and threw himself onto his bed, bawling loudly. 

Finally, Jean lost his temper and resorted to his usual argumentative ways. "You know what? You're right! I can't make you a Ravenclaw. But obviously you were sorted here for a reason, okay? The sorting hat doesn't do stuff just because. There are always reasons, and just because you can't see in yourself the qualities of a Gryffindor right now doesn't mean that you don't have them. Regardless of whatever you think, of whatever expectations you have for yourself, the truth is that you don't really know yourself that well. Why don't you just grow up and accept it instead of crying like a little baby! I mean, I know we're kids, but how can you act this way?" Jean was in his element now. 

"Me? How can you be so rude?!" Marco retorted wetly, his sorrowful outburst from earlier settling into something more akin to contempt.

"Rude, huh?" Jean repeated mockingly. "Well guess what? This is how I ALWAYS act. I'm ALWAYS this rude! That's probably why I don't have any friends!" Jean shouted. 'Well, I probably should have left out that last bit,' Jean berated himself inwardly. 

Marco was taken aback by the fact that Jean thought he didn't have any friends... "What about Sasha and Connie?" Marco pointed out, more calmly, but still stubbornly.

"All they ever do is tease me, they don't really care about me." Jean said bitterly.

"I don't think that's true. And I don't think YOU think that's true, either." Marco's tears had dried by now. He was more angry than he was distraught by this point. 

"How would you know what I think? You don't even know what you think. All you had to do was tell the Sorting Hat you wanted to be in Ravenclaw, and it would have been done." Jean knew he'd crossed a line, but seldom knew when to stop arguing when he was on a roll. He saw Marco flinch at his words, and immediately regretted them.

"I didn't mean to! I just thought about wanting to spend more time with you, and it just decided for me!" Marco barked out, and felt embarrassment wash over him. Why had he said that? He groaned, wanting nothing more than to just crawl into a hole and hide. Jean was similarly mortified.

The two of them remained silent except their heavy breathing from shouting, Marco kneeling on his bed, Jean standing by his trunk. Jean realized that Marco must be blaming him for not getting into Ravenclaw. He imagined that perhaps Marco could have been enjoying a feast at the Ravenclaw table right now. He suddenly felt a burdensome force press down on him, one with which he as all too familiar - guilt.

"Marco, I'm...I'm sorry..." Jean mumbled quietly.

Marco knew what Jean was thinking, and the regret he felt was palpable. "No, Jean you were right!" Marco took a deep breath and continued. "I...for the longest time, I'd only thought about being a Ravenclaw. Because that's what my parents were! And I think they sort of assumed that I'd be one too. I'm still worried that they'll be disappointed, but I know there's a reason for me being here. And I guess I just needed someone to talk some sense into me." Marco paused and stood up, but Jean just looked away. "What I'm trying to say is thank you. And I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have taken it out on you." Jean finally looked up at Marco, who had at last regained a semblance of the sweet smile he'd shown Jean on the train, and the relief swept over Jean. 

"Don't worry," Jean said facetiously. "You can make it up to me later."

\- - - 

Jean could hardly believe that it had been nearly seven years since the day he and Marco had first met and been sorted. Now it was their last week at school as 7th years, and Jean was remembering all the adventures they'd had together. Jean always managed to drag Marco into mischief despite his protests, and Marco was usually the one to just barely get them out of trouble. Jean figured that eventually, there would come a time when even Marco's good instincts wouldn't be able to save them from the consequences of Jean's decisions. Until then, he was just going to keep pushing his luck, and was comforted by the knowledge that Marco was always by his side. 

In fact, Marco was sitting right next to him on the Gryffindor common room sofa, reading a dusty, old tome that was beyond Jean's comprehension. Marco surprised no one by becoming one of the top students of their year, and had become good friends with fellow bookworm Armin. 

Jean didn't mind Armin so much – he was actually quite helpful in coming up with creative solutions when Jean was stuck with one of his studies, and Jean found his presence to be relaxing. But Armin's best friend, Eren....now there was someone to whom Jean had taken quite some time to warm up. He and Eren became formally acquainted during Flying Class in their first year under the guidance of Coach Shadis, and the two of them tried so hard to one-up each other that they both ended up in the hospital wing that morning. That was the beginning of an intense rivalry between them, made none the easier by Jean's persistent crush on Eren's adoptive sister, Mikasa, that lingered well into their third year. By that point, Jean began to realize she was far from interested in a romantic relationship with him, and settled for being friends instead. It seemed that around that time, his rivalry with Eren took a turn towards something more closely resembling competitive camaraderie. They still egged each other on, often to the point where one or both of them would embarrass themselves, but it was usually in a friendly fashion that would end with bouts of shared laughter. Marco commented curiously on it to Jean sometime during their fourth year:

–

“You know, I used to worry that you and Eren would fight each other to the grave. I'm really happy that you two are getting along these days.” Marco smiled at Jean over their bubbling potion, the cauldron casting a strange green glow upon his face. Jean just shrugged, turning the pages of the potions textbook in search of the right recipe.

“I guess I just stopped caring, kinda. I mean, competing with him like we used to takes so much energy. And I know now that Mikasa is out of my league. So once I accepted that, I didn't really have a reason to be jealous. I think we're both better Quidditch players for all the crap we pulled on each other, though.” Jean reminisced, chuckling as he tossed some ingredients into the cauldron. “But yeah, I think I'm done with romance for a while. For now I want to focus on doing well at school and landing a comfy job at the Ministry of Magic when I graduate.” Marco hummed, smiling broadly at Jean.

“That's what I want to do, as well!” Marco said cheerfully, and Jean raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Really.” He replied flatly. “You...want to work...at the ministry.” Jean repeated in disbelief. “With your brains and your strong sense of justice, I would have thought you'd want to be an auror or something. You have the grades to do it, too.” Jean pointed out.

Marco shook his head and looked down at the cauldron bashfully. “I actually want nothing more than to humbly serve and aid the minister of magic,” Marco admitted. “I just hope that I'll be helpful to him in some way. That's what I'm studying so hard to achieve!” The excitement and earnestness Marco displayed in his moment of openness made Jean feel strange. Not necessarily bad, but strange nonetheless. Jean was trying to ignore the turbulent feeling in his stomach when Marco continued. “And you know, you're wrong about one thing.” Jean looked up at Marco inquisitively. “Mikasa is not out of your league. She just has eyes for one particular person, you see. She's always had a very pointed and driven personality, and that's true when it comes to love as well. If she could see you the way I see you, she'd know what she's missing out on.” Jean was thankful that Marco punctuated this sentence by returning his attention to their churning concoction, because Jean's face lit up like a Christmas tree as a result of his comments. How could Marco just say these affectionate things to his friends with a straight face like that? Jean couldn't get the strange feeling out of his stomach for the rest of the lesson.

–

Even just remembering that incident made Jean blush a little bit at how frank Marco could sometimes be. He glanced sidelong at his best friend, checking that his attention was otherwise engaged, and allowed his mind to wander to yet another memory. It was secretly one of his favorite memories to revisit, but he'd never admit it. It was transfiguration class two years ago - he remembered how quickly his classmates had become adept at transfiguration, some of them even mastering the art of animal and human transfiguration - how jealous and frustrated he had felt, and how Marco had completely turned that around on him:

– 

Jean sat next to Marco in transfiguration, but it was the only class they shared that year, a fact that Jean was very aware of and that frequently contributed to his exceptionally sour attitude that entire year. Add to that the stress he experienced from preparing for their O.W.L.S., and it was a miracle that Marco didn't catch wise and leave Jean to his own devices. Thankfully, he remained loyal to his closest friend, and it was this very volatile friend that he was currently attempting to calm down. 

“Jean, it's okay if you don't get it right away, it's a very advanced technique.” Marco insisted with a slight frown. Jean simply threw his wand down in aggravation and covered his face with his hands, letting out a muffled groan.

Marco looked over at Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt, who were currently showing off their transformation skills across from where he and Jean sat. Marco sighed tiredly, turning back to Jean to try again, when he was suddenly struck by inspiration.

“Hey, why don't we just ditch class?” Marco suggested with a smirk. Jean froze, peeking through his fingers at Marco skeptically. He placed one hand on Marco's forehead and one one his own, and Marco almost jerked his head back in surprise, his cheeks turning a bit pink.

“Hmm...no fever.” Jean said suspiciously. “Connie? I didn't think you'd be smart enough to get human transfiguration down...”

Marco giggled, and Jean felt the corner of his mouth twitch, his cheeks aching as he resisted the huge grin Marco's laughter made him want to break into. “No Jean, it's me.” Marco asserted.

“Prove it. Say something only Marco would know.” Jean crossed his arms expectantly.

“Haha okay, how about that time last year when I overheard you-”

“OK!” Jean clapped his hands over Marco's mouth mid-sentence, blushing furiously. He did NOT want to revisit that embarrassing moment when Marco walked in on him during a very intimate, private moment. “I get it, you're Marco. But ditching? Really?? I must say, it's not really your style, Bodt.” Jean finally allowed his smile to show through.

“Is that a challenge?” Marco pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Jean.

“Yeah, you up for it?” Jean stuffed his wand in his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“Duh, I suggested it,” Marco replied with snark, but Jean knew he was just teasing. And honestly, with a smile like Marco's, Jean would let him get away with pretty much anything. 

“So what's the plan, mastermind?” Jean muttered to Marco as inconspicuously as he could manage.

“We need a distraction...” Marco murmured impishly, eyeing the trio of students now brazenly showing off across the study hall. Just as one was about to utter the incantation to transform themselves into a fellow classmate, Marco muttered something under his breath and sneakily flicked his wand in that direction. Suddenly, instead of becoming Thomas, Bertholdt was transforming into a giraffe, sprouting a long neck and gangly legs, and the students around him shuffled away with concerned shouts and calls to the teacher.

“Hoover, how many times have I told you, it's flick THEN swish, two SEPARATE motions!” The professor berated him from across the room as Bertholdt bowed his giraffe head in shame.

Marco did feel a little bit guilty about that – Bertholdt had never done anything to cross him - but it was worth the smile on Jean's face and the laughter bubbling up from his throat as they fled the classroom and retreated to the empty Gryffindor common room. They spent that afternoon talking about Quidditch matches and playing games, and eventually settled into comfortable conversation as they relaxed by the fire. But something besides schoolwork had been weighing on Jean's mind lately, something that had bothered him now again since their conversation from the prior year. 

“Hey Marco?” Jean piped up after a while of them reading Quidditch magazines in silence.

Marco looked up at Jean's shy beckoning, away from the moving picture of the players zipping about on the pages below. “What's up?” he prompted when Jean hesitated.

“Last year you said you wanted to serve the minister of magic, you said that was your goal that you were working towards. Well...” Jean shifted uncomfortably, and Marco straightened up, placing the magazine aside and devoting full attention to Jean. “What I mean to say is, that's totally a good goal and all, but why stop there? Why not go even further – you should be the next minister of magic!” Jean suggested, nervous about how receptive Marco would be to his idea. 

Marco's brow furrowed, and his bottom lip stuck out a bit in what Jean had to admit was nothing short of cute. “Jean, that's a lot of responsibility. So many people's lives are affected by the decisions a minister makes. There are many more qualified people than myself who should be considered first. Even if I were much older and more experienced, I don't think my personality is quite suited for the job.” Marco looked away, obviously turning over some thoughts in his head. But what he said next was something Jean never expected to hear. “To be honest, I think you'd make a good minister, Jean.” Marco stated, and Jean gazed at him with a confused expression.

“...Me??” was all Jean could say. He was completely flabbergasted.

“Yeah...” Marco responded with a small smile, his eyes sparkling with sincerity as Jean stared at him for a moment, and Marco felt compelled to explain his reasoning. “I want you to listen to me without getting angry. You're not strong, Jean. That's why you understand how the weak feel. And you're adept at properly assessing a situation, so you know exactly was has to be done at any given time. That's why you're in line to be captain of the Quidditch team when the current captain graduates this year, and that's the same quality that makes you a good leader.” Marco said all this this like it was no big deal, smiling all innocently, before picking the magazine back up and flipping back to the page he'd been reading before Jean had interrupted. Meanwhile, Jean could only sit there dazed. 'Seriously, where does he get all that??' Jean thought to himself, having much more on his mind now than before he had spoken. What he didn't notice was that Marco had not even read a single word on the page before him - he was just staring down at it absently, completely shocked by the fact that he'd been able to actually say all of that to Jean. He thanked his lucky stars that Jean hadn't noticed him trying to return his breathing to normal, or the rosiness that tinted his cheeks. 

–

That was the moment when Jean realized that the person he saw himself as was only a fraction of who he really was, and he had always been grateful to Marco for showing him his own potential. Now, as a 7th year and two-time captain of the Quidditch team, he was starting to understand how his peers saw him. They did see him as a leader, a role model, someone whose actions and decisions were considerably more thought-out than the ones he had made in previous years. He has made mistakes, and like Marco had said – he wasn't necessarily strong. He knew what it felt like to have vices, to give in to them. He knew what regret and remorse felt like, to wish for things to have gone a different way, but knowing that to be impossible to then take those mistakes as lessons and learn from them. And that was precisely why he understood how others felt when they found themselves in similar situations. He understood how to sway people, how to motivate them, and what motivated them. He still found himself sometimes in need of the expertise of others, but where he would have been too stubborn to admit that or ask for help in the past, he now knew exactly when it was appropriate to do so, and acted on that knowledge with precision and confidence. Ultimately, it was Marco he had to thank for this higher level of self-awareness.

He couldn't help the little sigh that escaped him, and that caught Marco's attention.

“What's up?” he said, poking Jean in the arm teasingly.

“Remember when you found out you were going to be a Gryffindor, and you were so worried about how your parents would react?” Jean said, turning to meet Marco's gaze. Marco blushed and averted his eyes with an embarrassed smile.

“Yeah, I can't believe I was so worried. They were totally happy for me, didn't even faze them. I nearly puked myself thinking about telling them. But you assured me it would it be okay, and I wanted to believed you.” He finally looked back at Jean. “I never properly made it up to you, you know? For helping me after the sorting ceremony...” Marco trailed off with a nervous, quiet chuckle.

“Are you kidding? You've helped me tons of times!” Jean countered. 

“But those don't count. You gave up your opening feast to help me, not just the meal but the bonding and the memories, and the times I've helped you have never been at the expense of my sacrifice. It doesn't feel like paying you back if I don't suffer,” Marco joked.

“Marco, honestly, you don't owe me anything. I'm not keeping score, and I wouldn't want to, because I can assure you that I've gotten way more out of this friendship than you have.” Jean argued, and Marco shook his head.

“I doubt that's true,” Marco denied, but let the debate settle for the time being. 

\- - -

The subject was not brought up again, and Jean and Marco passed the day leisurely, not having much of anything to do but pack and prepare for the final Quidditch game, which was followed by the closing ceremony at the end of the week. The closing ceremony was always a huge deal, and this year the headmaster was rumored to have hired some dragon handlers to put on a show for everyone after the House cup and the Quidditch cup winners were announced. Jean was nervous, though not because of the House cup. To be honest, neither he nor Marco were true Gryffindor zealots, and so neither of them placed importance on winning the House cup. The after-parties were fun, Jean had to admit, but it didn't really matter who won in his opinion. 

What he was nervous about was the Quidditch cup. Last year, his first as team captain, they had come in a very close second to Eren and his team of Slytherins. This year, he had intended to settle the score. The two houses were neck and neck, with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw not trailing far behind them. Until the previous week, it had really been up in the air between all four houses, but the games last week cemented the lead for Slytherin and Gryffindor, and very seldom did it come down to the last game of the season like it would this year. Jean was feeling the pressure, but thankfully, he had learned to channel that tension into being an effective captain and player. 

The intensity Jean exuded left Marco in awe sometimes, like it did during his pregame pep-talk the next day. He had that look in his eye that he got when he knew what needed to be done, and nothing was going to get in his way. He expected his team to perform to a particular level of skill, and they all knew that, and each took their roles seriously, Marco included. When it came to mobility and speed, Jean was unmatched by all except maybe Connie, who was the Hufflepuff seeker. And that was why Jean played the role of seeker, directly facing off against Mikasa in the race for the Golden Snitch in this final game. Not just the final game of the season or the year, but Jean's final year at Hogwarts and as Gryffindor captain. The significance was not lost on him. Marco had fast reflexes and good instincts, and often capitalized on these traits in his plays as a chaser. Together, the two of them, along with their skilled teammates, were a force to be reckoned with, and one with which the Slytherins did indeed reckon. 

A half hour into the game and the two teams were demonstrating the reason for their domination, scoring back and forth and maintaining the head-to-head rivalry that they had displayed all season long. Marco and his chasers had made some solid plays, but the tactical mind of Armin along with Eren's brute force as a beater was a tough combo to beat. The close game that resulted from this match up placed even more importance on who would catch the snitch, and that pressure fell to Jean and Mikasa.

The two of them were zooming desperately to capture the snitch, each of them flattened tightly against their broomsticks for maximum velocity. By this point, they'd blocked out their surroundings, and it felt as though it were just the two of them and the whistle of the wind as they inched towards the swift snitch. The voices of the announcer and crowd had faded to the back of Jean's mind as he felt his fingertips brush the wings of that golden orb. However, there was always one voice he could never tune out, and it was that voice that called out to him unexpectedly in alarm.

“Jean!” Marco bellowed from across the pitch, and Jean pulled his attention away from the snitch just long enough to notice a dragon heading right for them, it's mouth opened ominously with a foreboding crimson glow. Mikasa hadn't noticed – she was too focused on the snitch, and Jean had no choice but to sideswipe her out of the path of the dragon's fiery breath. The fire just barely singed his robes, but they escaped from the confrontation unharmed. Mikasa maneuvered in midair with mild outrage at Jean's interference only to at last notice the reason for it.

“Go!” He urged her, but in turning her way, he had failed to realize the collision course the dragon's tail was making towards the back end of his broomstick. With a loud crack, it made contact, sending him into a tailspin towards the nearest goal post. Jean knew that he wouldn't be able to maintain control or grip on his broomstick much longer, and that his only choice was to make a leap of faith onto the goal post. With his balance and vision diminishing as the world spun around him, he took a few moments to orient himself as best he could and jumped. He smacked into the rounded edge of the inside of the goal post, but managed to maintain enough grip to not fall, lowering himself to his knees for better balance in the middle of the loop. He looked around the pitch at the chaos to which he had finally clued in, to the Quidditch players that had quickly abandoned their game, and the audience who was evacuating their observation towers. However, the dragon was not interested in them. It had set its sights on Jean, and was changing its direction to return to where he was now stranded. 

Jean fumbled awkwardly at his robes, scrambling to grab his wand where it was stowed in an interior pocket. The dragon loomed ever closer, and Jean finally grasped the handle of his wand, whipping it out of the pocket to summon his broomstick. But of course, it was in this moment, facing imminent death, that Jean couldn't get the spell to work correctly. He tripped over the words, then mishandled the wand motion, and with each messed up incantation, his panic grew more debilitating, until the dragon was almost upon him. He felt the dread settle at the pit of his stomach, but the dragon was suddenly intercepted by a lone figure flying past on a broomstick.

“Jean!” Marco called out as he zipped past the nose of the dragon, catching its attention with his swift movements. “Calm down!” he shouted, and then left the vicinity with the dragon in tow, and headed towards the Forbidden Forest. 

“Marco! What are you doing, you idiot!?” Jean yelled after him, but Marco was steadily moving out of hearing range and disappearing into the forest, and close behind him was the dragon, now fully enticed by how he zig-zagged among the trees. Jean took a moment to just breathe, and found he was now calm enough to perform the Accio spell flawlessly. It took only a few moments for the broom to return from where it had fallen on the Quidditch pitch below, but that was enough time for Marco and dragon alike to disappear into the shadows of the trees below. Jean noticed a few of the Quidditch players returning to help him, but his mind was set on only Marco as he mounted his broomstick and took off for the forest.

“Jean! You shouldn't go after them!” Mikasa advised him sternly, but he ignored her and charged into the brush at full speed, thoughts of Marco blocking out everything else. He dodged branches left and right, urging himself to go faster, to catch up the dragon that was currently hunting down his best friend. Thoughts of the worst case scenario bombarded him, distracting him with images of what he might find when he caught up, but he shoved those to the back of his mind and pressed on.

“Come on!” he implored his beaten broomstick, leaning into the turns more aggressively to gain any meager amount of headway on the others. In his haste and desperation, however, he just slightly miscalculated the curve around a particular tree branch. Normally, it wouldn't have been such a bad fall, but due to the speeds at which he was traveling, the resulting crash was the worst he'd even been in, including all those times he'd recklessly competed with Eren in the younger days.

Jean's broom snagged on the branch, flipping him completely upside down and sending him tumbling into other tree branches. The branches snapped under the force of his hurtling body, slowing him down slightly, albeit painfully. However, the real damage happened when he slammed into the trunk of a nearby tree, knocking the air out of him and slamming his head against the unforgiving bark before dropping his battered body with a crunch of leaves to the forest floor. His vision swam and his head ached horribly as he tried to get back up, then faded to black as he passed out at the base of the tree.

Jean couldn't figure out how long he had been unconscious, but he remembered being awoken by booming vibrations that implied the approach of something massive. It was hard work getting his eyes to open, and what he saw made him wish he hadn't even tried. Across from the clearing in which he was kneeling, the dragon made its appearance from between the trees, crunching some unidentifiable object between its teeth. 

Jean looked more closely, and felt his blood run cold when he recognized the broomstick handle as the kind that Marco rode. The dragon gnashed the destroyed broomstick as it made its way towards where Jean sat, hopeless and distraught. Jean looked up just in time to see the jaws of the beast stretching wide around him, the teeth glinting menacingly, before they snapped shut and-

Jean awoke with a gasp and sat straight up, a cold layer of sweat coating his skin. He looked around, frantically trying to understand where he was at, and immediately regretted the action as his head throbbed in protest. He winced and brought a hand up to the pain in his skull and felt thick bandages covering his head. He closed his eyes, seeing the vivid images so clearly, and suddenly felt very sick to his stomach.

“Marco...” he lamented grimly, feeling tears prickle at his eyes. His best friend, the man to whom he owed his life. There were so many things he hadn't told him that he wished he had - how he had finally realized that all the strange feelings he'd had towards Marco over the years were not merely gas, as he had so often tried to convinced himself. The warm sensation that filled his belly and pulled his lips into a smile at just the thought of Marco, the admiration he had for him, the appreciation he felt towards him and everything he'd selflessly done for Jean... he loved him! He loved Marco, and maybe it was just fondness at first, but he couldn't fool himself into believing that his adoration had grown into anything short of absolute love. Why had it taken him so long to realize it? Now it was too late, and he would never have the chance to show Marco how much he meant to him. 

Jean put his head in his hands and wept, stubbornly silent but shaking with grief. “Marco...!” Jean whimpered brokenly. He heard footsteps approaching, but couldn't pull himself away from his misery enough to care, at least not until he heard the source of the footsteps speak.

“Jean?” a familiar voice said timidly with audible concern. Jean blinked a few times, slowly lowering his hands and forcing himself to look at his visitor. He had to catch his breath from how it got caught in his throat, because standing before him was none other than the man he'd given up on as dead - the one about whom he'd just come to a staggering realization. His mouth hung open uselessly for a moment, his face wet and puffy, before he finally spoke. 

“Am I dead?” Jean asked, unsure. 

“No, you're tougher than that.” Marco said, laughing under his breath. “But you sure gave Mikasa a fright when she found you. You should really apologize to her for that,” Marco laughed again, but Jean could tell it was forced. He could see the telltale signs of stress on Marco's face, his eyes rimmed with pink and his pale, sickly complexion making his freckles stand out starkly. When Jean didn't laugh with him, Marco stopped trying to fake cheerfulness.

“Where am I?” Jean mumbled, not wanting to look around and risk another headache.

“In the Hospital Wing,” Marco informed him as he took as seat next to him on the bed. “After the dragon handlers caught up to me and wrangled the dragon that'd gotten loose, Mikasa and the other Quidditch players asked me where you'd gotten off to. I had no idea what they were talking about, so we used some magic to find you. When we did,” Marco paused to gulp, looking a bit ill at the memory he was reciting. “You were...not well. Long story short, you are really lucky to be alive right now.” Marco's eyes shimmered slightly, and he blinked rapidly a few times, looking up at the ceiling. Jean felt his chest clench guiltily, but it was honestly nothing compared to the relief and joy from Marco being alive. The two of them sat silently for some time, each one apparently caught up in their own thoughts. Jean cleared his throat and Marco rubbed the back of his hand across his cheek furtively before turning to face him.

“I had a...a bad dream, I guess.” Jean rubbed his face and realized as he spoke that it must have been a dream. “That the dragon had eaten you, that it was chewing on your broomstick, and then it ate me...” Jean trailed off, a bit embarrassed to have admitted that, but not really feeling as though he was in full enough control of his faculties to have prevented sharing that information. 

“Oh...” Marco breathed, hesitating. “Yeah it was just a dream, I'm perfectly fine.” Marco assured Jean, who was fidgeting with the bandages on his head. “And you know, the game was interrupted, and the headmaster felt so bad about it that she declared both houses the dual winners of the Quidditch Cup, but Eren said that the winners should be Gryffindor, because it was your quick thinking that saved Mikasa. So congratulations, Captain, you won us the Quidditch cup!” Marco patted his leg, trying to cheer Jean up somewhat. But Jean just looked at Marco with this intense expression, and Marco wasn't sure if he should be worried. “Did you hear what I said?” Marco said softly.

“Yeah...Listen, Marco.” Jean said, shaking his head and trying to sit up more but flinching at the spark of pain that resulted. “I don't care about the game, or the Quidditch cup-”

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” Marco interrupted, placing a hand gingerly on Jean's shoulder.

“No, Marco, listen-” Jean insisted, only to be cut off again by Marco's concern.

“I can call the nurse if you want,” Marco offered, looking around for said nurse. Jean was beginning to get frustrated.

“What? No, please. Marco, I need to tell you something-”

“Nurse!” Marco called out to no one in particular. Jean couldn't get a word in edgewise, so did the only thing he could think of to get Marco's attention. He grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down into a rough kiss. It wasn't the best kiss technically, seeing as how Jean was recovering from near death and Marco was completely surprised by it, but it sure felt like the best kiss to Jean, and to Marco too, who had thrown his arms around Jean's neck and was returning the gesture with pleasure. At last, they separated lips, but maintained a fond closeness, with Marco's arm resting around Jean's shoulder and Jean's hands on Marco's back, the both of them breathing heavily.

“Marco, I love you.” Jean said, and kissed him sweetly on the cheek for good measure. “I thought you had died, I thought I had lost you...” Jean sniffled, and pulled Marco into a distressed hug, shaking just slightly. Marco ran his fingers through the disheveled hair peeking out from Jean's bandages and rubbed his back.

“I love you, too...” Marco whispered hoarsely, trying not to cry. “I have loved you for so long, but I didn't think you'd ever feel that way, so I never said anything.” Marco admitted, tears rolling down his cheeks despite his attempts to hold them in. 

They sat there hugging, neither one pulling away from the embrace, and were only brought out of their reverie by the nurse that had come to change Jean's bandages. “Can't you just heal him magically?” Marco asked. The nurse rolled his eyes before replying “There's only so much magic healing a person's body can handle. We used the magic on the serious stuff, it's up to Jean here to do the rest.”

“Sorry...” Marco shrugged, taking Jean's hand in his, which finally brought a smile to Jean's face. “But there is one good thing to come out of this,” Marco pondered aloud.

“Oh yeah?” Jean smirked, fully content with taking the bait. “This oughtta be good. And what's that?”

“I finally was able to make it up to you!” Marco pointed out enthusiastically, and Jean genuinely laughed at that. 

“Yes, you did.” he agreed. “I told you were sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, didn't I? Now we know why.”  
\--

**Author's Note:**

> If I were writing this for myself, or for anyone else who hadn't specifically stated they do not like character deaths, I would have gone hardcore canon-compliant and killed off Marco (sorry!) , which would have inspired Jean to pursue a career as an auror instead of a cushy ministry job. BUT! Seeing as how this is a gift for someone else, it's not my place to put those elements into a story that's meant for them. And isn't that what fanfiction is for, in some way? To change the parts about canon that you don't like? So, while I did want to stay true to a lot of elements and plot points from canon, I made sure this was a happy ending worthy of HydrandeaPartridge's suggestion. I hope you liked it!
> 
> (Also, I cannot accept credit for this line of dialogue that is almost word-for-word lifted from the anime: "I want you to listen to me without getting angry. You're not strong, Jean. That's why you understand how the weak feel. And you're adept at properly assessing a situation, so you know exactly was has to be done at any given time. " I wrote everything in here except that!)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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